


all is calm, all is bright

by thatiranianphantom



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bughead Secret Santa, But shhh....don't tell Betty, F/M, Fluff, Just Bughead cuteness idk, bughead - Freeform, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:14:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatiranianphantom/pseuds/thatiranianphantom
Summary: “Jug,” she breathes. “What are you doing here?”He grins and strides up to her desk, fishing something red and velvety out of his pocket. He stuffs it on his head, and she nearly bursts out laughing. It’s a Santa hat, the rim fluffy and white, almost covering the entirety of his hair.“Secret Santa business, young lady,” he says, offering his hand to her. “I’m going to need you to come with me.”
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 34
Kudos: 80
Collections: 8th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	all is calm, all is bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeapotFiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeapotFiction/gifts).



> For Bughead Secret Santa, and TeapotFiction, who requested Bughead fluffiness. I hope this fit the bill!

  
  


She had drawn the short straw, Betty knows. Sitting in her office, she can feel a headache coming on, thanks to the bright light of the computer in front of her. Glancing at the corner of the screen, she sees the time move from 8:58 to 8:59.

“New recruit works late on Christmas,” her boss had chuckled. She wants to strangle him now. Betty gets it; she’s the new agent, she has to work her way up, pay her dues, get to a point where she’s allowed to take Christmas off. But all she can think about now is Jughead, sitting alone at their apartment. He’d be watching a movie, maybe, or ordering Chinese food. And if she were there, she’d be curled up under that very same blanket, in the glow of the painfully undecorated Christmas tree, his arms around her, warm from head to toe. 

It’s a busy time of year. So busy that neither of them had put “get ornaments” on their list. Jughead assures her it’s okay, that the tree is perfect without it. It indeed is, and she wishes more than anything that she was there right now. 

But she’s not. She’s here, in her bland office, getting a headache from the fluorescent glow of her laptop screen. 

She heaves a sigh. Next year, maybe. It’s not like their Christmas traditions are going anywhere. As adults, perhaps the best part of the holidays was that they got to make their own traditions. And Jughead had been fine with her having to work. Disappointed, of course, but he understood. Nearly ten years in, their relationship is strong. Definitely strong enough to withstand one missed Christmas. 

Betty misses him, though. She misses the simplest things, like lying in his arms while he strokes her hair. That’s all she wants. Just to be with him right now. 

The darkening of her screen jerks her back to the present, and she wiggles her mouse to reactivate the light. 

The report is nearly done. It was a small case anyway, an open and shut that was particularly frustrating to be working on, especially on Christmas Eve. A low-stakes case for the new recruit that somehow still necessitated her staying in her office on this of all nights, away from her boyfriend. 

A shadow falling across her doorway makes her look up, and her heart starts pounding because suddenly, there is said boyfriend, standing in her office doorway, hands in his pockets and a shy smile on his face. 

“Jug,” she breathes. “What are you doing here?”

He grins and strides up to her desk, fishing something red and velvety out of his pocket. He stuffs it on his head, and she nearly bursts out laughing. It’s a Santa hat, the rim fluffy and white, almost covering the entirety of his hair.

“Secret Santa business, young lady,” he says, offering his hand to her. “I’m going to need you to come with me.” 

Her stomach gives a painful pang. She wants to go with him. She wants to bury herself in him and forget case reports about drug deals and stolen dogs. But she’s an FBI agent, and her career doesn’t just disappear. 

“Jug, you know I have to work.” 

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Not to worry, ma’am. Proper approval has been gained. Your reputation is intact.” 

She doesn’t know how this could be, and it’s not like Jughead to be so mysterious. Nor, really, in the Christmas spirit. Their holidays are low-key for a reason.

“But - “ 

Jughead proffers his hand, and Betty takes it hesitantly. 

“Trust me,” he grins. “I got approval. We’re a-go for Santa.” 

He pulls on her hand a bit, guiding her out of the office. She follows hesitatingly, wondering who this is and what he’s done with her boyfriend. 

“Take a walk with me, Betts.” He smiles, and it’s a Jug smile, the one she fell in love with almost ten years ago. That alone brings a tiny smile to her face and convinces her to go along with him on this very odd Christmas Eve walk. 

He leads her out of her office by the hand. She’s starting to lose a sense of time because outside, snow blankets the ground and she doesn’t remember the forecast ever calling for it. It’s nighttime, the lights twinkle gently, and snowflakes fall and rest on her cheeks and in Jughead’s dark hair. 

It’s beautiful. 

It’s a perfect Christmas Eve, but as Betty quickly discovers, they’re not alone. On the sidewalk, her heart nearly stops when she sees Trev Brown. He gives her a sweet smile, his usual. She remembers turning him down for a second date, never really knowing why. Something about this beanie-headed boy taking up too much room in her brain. Trev had taken it well; he always had. Trev was eternally sweet and forgiving. She was thrilled for him when he had married a lovely girl he had met at, of all places, Pops. His face is always shining with happiness, no more so than today, as he wordlessly hands her something. 

  
  


It is more than odd to get a gift from Trev Brown, but when she looks back at Jug, he is smiling. Her mittens trace over the rounded shape of the present, the hook at the top. It’s an ornament, one that reads simply, in embellished letters, “ _ also.”  _

Tears spring to her eyes immediately. Also...it takes her back to a pink-flowered room at fifteen, a boy who had somehow known exactly what to say, and a heart-stopping moment where the noise of the world floated away, and there was only he and her. 

“Trev,” she breathes out shakily. The man shakes his head, gently pointing her towards her boyfriend, and she can see the tips of his ears redden. 

“Jug, this is...it’s about..”

He shakes his head. “Only the first stop on the train, Betts. Let’s keep going.” 

She doesn’t really want to keep going. More so, she wants an explanation, but Jug mimes zipping his lips and slips his hand into hers again, leading her down the sidewalk, on what she now recognizes as the walk home to their apartment. 

And not 100 meters down, Betty’s heart pounds as she spots the next person Jughead has no doubt recruited, by the unmistakable shine of blonde hair. 

It’s Polly. Of all people, Polly. Betty’s contact with her sister is sporadic at best. Polly’s in a good place at Shady Grove, but she hasn’t recovered as much as they’d like. Betty misses her every day, but she’s learning to be content with where Polly is. She takes in the employee next to Polly, their steadying hand on her sister’s arm, and a lump forms in her throat. Jughead squeezes her hand. He understands; she knows. He always does. 

But her sister smiles at her, almost like the Polly she knew when they were kids. And her sister hands her something wrapped in paper. 

It’s an ornament again, but this time, her fingers pass over the metallic words. 

_ I want to know you _ . 

Betty gasps. “The baby shower.”

Jughead nods, and she knows they’re both remembering. The revelation about Jughead’s family. Their first introduction to the Serpents. She remembers Jughead looking at her, eyes wide with panic. Will you look at me differently now, it seemed to say. 

And then, she remembers lacing her fingers with his.  _ I was embarrassed,  _ he had said. 

“If we’re going to be together, I want to know you. All of it.” She repeats with the memory.

The boy in front of her is both different and the same as the boy she knew then. Jughead was mostly unaffiliated with the Serpents now, but they are part of their shared history, and she is only grateful for that time, for getting to know him a little better.

Her sweet boyfriend gently prods her on, holding out a canvas bag for the ornaments in her hands. For the next while, she can see nobody on the street, and she soaks in the few moments where it’s just her and Jughead, his hand warm in hers, as they meander down the road. 

He’s relaxed, but she can also sense the anticipation in him. He’s straighter than he usually is. He’s more assured. And when he pulls at her hand, she allows him to drag her into the next place, feeling warm despite the chilly night. 

The next location is dark; that’s the first thing she thinks. It’s an alcove. She remembers it well, from a few snuck kisses on the way home. She remembers ducking into this little spot, their spot, to find a few minutes of peace in the arms of the man she loves. 

This time, though, Josie McCoy steps out of that alcove. This time, Josie smiles at Betty and gives her a little bag, then steps away without a word. 

This time, in the bag is a snowflake-shaped ceramic embossed with “ _ I believe you _ .” 

There seems to be a permanent presence of tears in her eyes, as well as a flood of memories triggered, because she remembers this instantaneously as well. She remembers Jughead’s weary gaze, the way he’d looked at her after she’d met his father. And the way he held her face in his hands as they kissed, so gentle, but so strong. Like he was anchoring her to him. 

_ I believe you, _ she’d said. And she did. She believed him always, trusted him more than anyone in her life. 

“Juggie,” she gasps. “What is all of this?”

He smiles and draws her nearer. “A Christmas surprise, Betty.”

She tugs the edges of the Santa hat over his red ears. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what it is?”

He shakes his head, bringing her hand up to his lips and kissing it quickly. “Then it’s not a surprise. But you’ll like it, I promise.”

She feels a knot in her stomach, thinking of her gift for him. She’d liked it at the time, but this...this was more than she’d ever done for him. 

He notes her look and pulls them to a stop, tipping her face into his hands. 

“Hey,” he strokes his thumbs over her cheeks. “What is it? What’s with the face?”

Betty sniffles. “I didn’t get you anything like this, Juggie.”

He looks genuinely confused, as he continues the gentle motion, his thumbs warming her cheeks. 

“I have you, Betty. What more could I possibly want?”

This time, his hands are wet by her tears. “Juggie…”

“It doesn’t matter what you got me, Betty. I know I’ll love it. I didn’t do this for you to make you feel indebted. I did it because I love you.”

It’s said so simply, and she feels she may explode with love for this gorgeous man in front of her. 

Betty lifts her mouth to his and breathes all her love into the kiss.

“I can’t believe you did this,” she says as they separate. 

Jughead smiles, squeezes her hands, and leans in to whisper in her ear. “Isn’t this what people like us, who have been through what we’ve been through, do?”

* * *

  
  
  


They’re not done. 

He reattaches their hands, pulling her closer to home, but the surprises keep coming. 

He’s put so much time, so much effort into this. It takes her breath away, and while she knows how sweet and kind Jughead is, she can’t help but wonder where he’s taking this. 

She does not get a chance to ask, though, because they stumble on the next person and the next gift. The next one comes from Reggie. He has a softer look on his face than Betty has ever seen from him. 

Fittingly, his ornament is a tiny strongman, holding a plate that says, “ _ I support you _ .” 

Betty can practically hear the rain behind them, feel the rough motel floor under their feet. Whatever he needed to do, whatever he needed to explore, she’d be there. It was the first sense of permanency in this relationship Betty had felt. The first time she’d felt the need to hold on, not to let him spin away. 

To tell him that she was there, always there, whatever he chose. 

She can still see his soft smile now, the same one he’s wearing in the present, cheeks red. 

She lifts her hands to the reddened skin and presses their foreheads together. 

“Jug, this is...it’s so much. What are you…”

Gently, he shakes his head. 

“All in good time, Cooper. All in good time. Moving on.” 

He turns them to go, but she sees him roll his eyes briefly as he finally obliges the fist bump Reggie’s been offering his fist for. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


She thinks they may be done, and if they are, she’s not sure this is a Christmas they’ll ever top. For the next ten minutes, she and Jughead stroll down the street, exchanging occasional kisses, while she tries to get any clues she can from him subtly. He’s wise to her, though. He knows her too well, and he doesn’t allow himself to be distracted. She is, though, so much that she almost misses the smiling face of Kevin Keller when he comes up beside her. 

He doesn’t say anything, but he hands her something wrapped in red, soft fabric. 

This one is wrapped in a sweater - a red, cable knit sweater that she swears almost smells like musty old books and dusty furniture. She can viscerally remember digging her fingernails into the red cloth, with a voice in her ears whispering. 

This ornament is simple. With black lettering, a little plate spelling out, “ _ So much stronger than the white noise.”  _

Maybe it’s the memory, maybe it’s just how the lump in her throats and the tears in her eyes are becoming a permanent fixture, but she launches herself into Jughead’s arms, tears leaking out onto his coat. 

She can feel him hesitate only a second before his warm hands come stroking down her back. 

“Betty Cooper,” he whispers in her ear. “You are so damn strong.” 

  
  


Betty lets out a sob, clinging to Jughead’s jacket. She feels dizzy, overwhelmed by love for him and this life they have built together.

They allow themselves a few long moments to bask. Betty’s tears dry as she clings to Jughead, and he tips her chin up and offers her a smile. This time, it is she that holds her hand out and offers to continue. 

They don’t walk long before the next surprise. 

Next, there’s a smile she’d recognize anywhere. In fact, a smile she recognizes from over a decade of friendship, as Archie Andrews, beaming widely, stands with a box in his hands. 

It’s a tiny, ceramic boxing glove. It’s so very appropriate for Archie that she giggles, and he gives her a playful little shove. 

This one has a string of ribbon haphazardly glued to it, with hand-marked letters. 

_ You’re the one I choose _ , it reads. 

Her mind takes her back to a time where their lives were crumbling around them, and the way they’d clung onto each other, the only thing that made sense. A song plays with the memory, a piece of them begging for the chance to be young and in love. Their youth’s days were not easy, but Betty wonders if they ever stopped clinging onto each other for dear life.

She passes her fingers along Jughead’s chin, giving him the strongest smile she can manage. “Still the one I choose,” she whispers, and he squeezes her hand. 

* * *

  
  


They’re nearing their apartment now. Betty feels a fluttering in her stomach of unknown origin. Jughead is - and always has been - the person she feels most comfortable with. 

But this feels as if it’s coming to something, and Jughead is still tight-lipped on the plan. 

Pulling on his hand, she brings them to a stop in front of their building. 

“Jug,” she says, thinking over all the ornaments, all the people, all the places that had been part of their story. 

“You….you did all this? Just for me, for Christmas?”

Jughead nods over to the corner of their lobby. “Well,” he grins ruefully. “Maybe I had a bit of help.”

And there stands Veronica Lodge. She holds a Tiffany’s box in her hands, and her eyes shine with tears. 

Her heels click over the linoleum as she strides over to the couple. 

The box is opened before her, and in it is a beautiful crystal bell, with gold lettering around it. 

“ _ We’re partners in life _ ,” it reads. 

Veronica says nothing but wraps Betty in a tight hug, and as she steps back, Betty hears a faint “Love you, B.” 

That’s all she’s allowed to hear, as Jughead swings her over to the elevator and into their apartment before she can say another word. 

She stops in the doorway, and her jaw drops. 

It barely looks like the same place she’d left that morning. Candles adorn the floor, the lights are dimmed, and petals lead the way to the Christmas tree, still undecorated. 

This time, a sob escapes, and Jughead leads her to the tree. Slowly, they hang every ornament, each one in a place of prominence, each a piece of their story. 

The light catches the ornaments, and it is bright and overwhelmingly beautiful. Betty turns to her boyfriend, a few sobs breaking through, but he holds up one finger. 

“One more,” is all he says. 

And then Jughead himself holds a box wrapped in newspaper clippings. It’s large, and she scrutinizes the words in the dim light. 

_ Teens catch Stonewall Killers _ one headline reads. Another,  _ Black Hood Brought Down Thanks to Teen Detectives.  _ A third,  _ Four Local Teens Escape Murderous Game. _

The big gift is a gorgeous angel, the other thing their tree is missing. The wings are feathered, delicate, and beautiful. The rest is ornate glass, the hair blonde and a mysterious smile on the heavenly being’s face. She’s holding a candle in one hand, and there is a ceramic book in the other. There’s cursive lettering on the book, reading  _ I’ll never stop loving you. _

  
  


And it’s so much, all at once, that at first, she doesn’t even notice. She doesn’t even see him take the other, tiny box. She doesn’t even see him get down on one knee. 

She doesn’t see it until she’s looking at him, and he’s crying too. 

The box holds a ring. It’s simple, a silver band and two white stones lying in a bed of scrawled words. Her eyes blur with tears, but on inspection, the words say the same thing, over and over. 

_ I love you, Betty Cooper. _

She hears Jughead inhale a shaky breath, and then he presses out the words in a teary voice.

“Marry me?”

Maybe there should be more words. Perhaps people, like them, had more to say at a time like this, but Betty thinks the last hour has said all that ever needed to be said. 

So she takes the angel out of his hands, gently setting it on top of the tree, where it watches over them, and then she kneels with him and kisses him with every inch of love inside of her. 

Then there’s only one word left to say. 

“ _ Yes. _ ” 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was an excellent use of Christmas Day! We are on lockdown here, implemented on Monday, so my family did Christmas last Sunday. Thus, today was mostly just Friday for me. 
> 
> We all know I'm an angst writer, so this was stretching some creative muscles, but I think it turned out okay! I hope you all enjoy. 
> 
> Happy holidays, my lovelies!


End file.
